


Heart in the right place

by MysteryLight



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gen, Grief, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Chapter 9, hint of dimitri/byleth but not the focus, in the form of wacky shenanigans, listen i don't know why a comedy fic about grief seemed like a good idea but here we are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteryLight/pseuds/MysteryLight
Summary: SPOILERS for chapter 9.Professor Byleth's loss is huge—her only family, gone in the blink of an eye.  But whether this affects her at all, no one can say, for she marches on as if nothing happened.The Blue Lions students realize something is not right. They are here to help. What could possibly go wrong when this noble plan is in the hands of such capable young leaders?
Kudos: 12





	Heart in the right place

“That concludes today’s lecture. I’m confident you’ll all prepare for the lecture on infiltration tactics come tomorrow at dawn.” Professor Byleth pauses. Lifts her eyes from the lectern to face the classroom. She almost looks bored, but even that would be too expressive a description for her blank face. “Questions?”

None of the Blue Lions raise their hand.

“Very well, then.” She gathers the last of her scrolls into her arms and strides out of the classroom. The clack of her heels on the cobblestone outside fades into silence. No one follows her out.

In fact, no one even stands up to gather their supplies. The tension in the room is palpable. Dimitri is about to raise his voice, if only to ease it, when Ashe beats him to the punch. “I could hardly take it anymore,” the boy blurts out. He jumps out of his seat at the front of the classroom. Turns around, his eyes searching the room for affirmation. “I’m not the only one, right? Right?”

Some classmates nod in agreement. The air is awkward. No one wants to say it aloud. 

Mere days ago, Captain Jeralt, their Professor’s father, died. The only family their Professor seemed to have had. Brutally murdered at that, a knife between the ribs in front of her eyes, in a battle she was responsible for orchestrating. Left to bleed out in her arms. 

Here is the thing. The Captain’s body has not been under the ground for over a day, yet this morning their Professor simply showed up to class, the poker-face of a century and a completely prepared lesson plan in hand.

It was… unexpected, to say the least.

They expected Hanneman to substitute for a while, perhaps even Manuela. Professor Byleth is beloved by the body of teachers as much as she is by the students—Dimitri imagines they must have offered. Not even a singular guest seminar, no, their own Professor showed up as if nothing happened to start the lesson. On knife-work, of all things.

“She did not seem overly… affected,” Mercedes says, softly.

Ingrid shakes her head. “Not overly affected is one thing, but… she didn’t even mention it... She continued as if nothing happened.” 

“You forget, she grew up a mercenary,” Felix deliberates. Then, on a bitterer note, he adds, “Deaths must have come and gone with a lot less pomp than for us noble brats.”

Annette gasps.

Ingrid, who has passed the surprise phase years ago when it comes to Felix, moves right to indignation. “Do you hear yourself sometimes? This is her father, Felix.”

Felix has never been one to back off from doubling down on a hurtful comment. He turns in his chair to face Ingrid. “And here I thought that you, out of all people, would idolize her dedication to her duties.”

Ingrid pushes herself up with her palms on the table, fire in her eyes. Had she been any other noble, had she not possessed such excellent self-control, she would challenge Felix to a duel right here and now.

It’s good that she is herself, since that would be exactly what Felix wants on the best of days. As it is, nobody moves. 

“Guys…” Sylvain tries, already hovering in the space between the two.

Dimitri, similarly, is not keen on seeing this argument play out for the upmost time. When tense seconds pass by and neither back down, he raises his voice. “Felix, that’s enough,” he says, trying for authority. 

Felix whips around to glare him into an early grave. “I don’t take orders from you, boar,” he says. And although it was not Dimitri’s intention, at least it seems to direct the feral pile of bitterness that was Felix Hugo Fraldarius to another target. It would have to do for now.

Dedue, seated on Dimitri’s right-hand side, clears his throat. Dependable as always, he gently steers them back on topic. “It was clear that the Professor cared a great deal for her father.” 

Ever respectful, Dedue does not spell out what they’d all seen: how their Professor had been quietly sobbing on that day, hunched over her father’s dying form. It could have been easily missed with in the weather and post-battle chaos. For anyone else, it would have been a muted response. But they’d seen their Professor in the first few months of teaching barely so much as twitch a facial muscle. They understand the significance of such a reaction from her. 

Dedue continues. “But the Professor is strong, too. She must handle her grief well,” he concludes.

Dimitri looks down at his folded hands. Although he is inclined to agree with Dedue’s more temperate assessment of their Professor’s reaction, something about it still does not sit right with him.

When he experienced his loss, he had lost it for weeks, months, had in all honestly never quite found himself again. But those first weeks in particular had been pure anguish, the deep grief and loneliness overpowered only by a promise of violent revenge. And the guilt. He had only learned to hide it with the many years that he carried that burden with him. But their Professor… So soon after seeing her father die, she seems completely over it. Is she truly this inhumanly disimpassioned?

No, Dimitri shakes his head. Despite appearances, he knew her not to be.

He had been tasked to find her the day after the tragic battle. Their Professor had apparently been summoned for a briefing on the battle’s events, but that morning no one could locate her to convey the message. Several church officials were looking for her. This included Seteth, who had roped Dimitri into the search.

Now, no one was to doubt Dimitri’s dedication to the church, or to Lady Rhea herself. Yet he had been appalled to hear his Professor was to report on such a traumatic night when not even the dew had dried on the grass outside. Others had been present for the deed. Let them report instead.

He did go out to search for her, but held no intention to drag her out to report. Concern drove him. It was not like their Professor to vanish like that, after all.

In the end he found her in her late father’s office. He had a suspicion she must know that they were searching for her; how else would she have sneaked right by Seteth’s office unseen?

A faint mumbling from under the door gave her away—was she talking to herself? The sound stopped as he opened the door. 

He did not even immediately spot her. She sat on the ground squeezed between the bookshelf and the desk, knees up to her chin. Her eyes had a hint of red around them. She held a leather-bound journal in her hands. Scattered around her lay what must be Jeralt’s possessions. She looked so small and young in that moment, nothing like the larger than life presence he usually saw her as.

He had talked to her then, had shared of his own troubles after what happened in Duskur. 

She had not said much in return. She simply accepted his offer to cover for her to Lady Rhea and forego her responsibilities for the day, thanking him in a quiet voice. And although she could hardly be called emotional in that moment, her request for privacy was telling when it came to the workaholic, unflappable professor. 

To hide away, to not want to face the reality of moving on just yet.

A very human response.

“With respect to your observation, Dedue, I must say I disagree,” Dimitri says, a hand on his chin. The class turns towards him. He needs them to understand, somehow can’t stand the idea they would go back to seeing their Professor the way Dimitri saw her when they were first introduced: stoic and distant, capable but uncaring. 

Then he falters—how is he to convey all of that without sharing the private, vulnerable state he saw the Professor in? 

“The Professor just now did not at all act like her usual self,” he begins. As he says it, he understands where he is going. “This lecture just now… She was running on automatic, completely without emotion. 

“Now, this was indeed the type of behavior we came to expect from her back when she first started teaching us. I think we all recall how mechanic she was back then. However, in the past year she has changed so much. Nowadays she smiles, shows compassion, grows frustrated… Never too exuberant, but present. Today, it was as if she had gone back in time, a completely blank face. I can only conclude this is a sign signifying she is still grieving deeply, in her own way.” 

“Oh no,” Mercedes laments, gripping her hands together in an instinctive prayer. “What if she only came in today because teaching is the only thing that distracts her from her sorrows? This simply won’t do.” 

“Poor Professor…” Ashe says.

“Nice speech, but hasn’t someone been paying a little too close attention to our Professor?” Sylvain says. He sends a mischievous wink Dimitri’s way. 

Dimitri sputters. “That is—completely unrelated, absolutely. I…”

Dimitri ends up not having to explain himself, for Ingrid whacks Sylvain on the head with a rolled up scroll. “Focus on the mission, Sylvain!” 

“Hey!” Sylvain complains, rubbing his head in mock hurt. “You let Felix go scot-free, but I get the roll, what gives—Wait, this is a mission now?” 

Dimitri looks up to see the Blue Lions having formed a conspiring half-circle around his desk. Ingrid and Dedue look dead serious. Annette, Ashe, and Mercedes have an excited energy about them. Even Felix is there, a few steps away from everyone else to feign a point, but listening intently nonetheless. 

“Oh of course!” Mercedes says, clearly reading the room better Sylvain and Dimitri put together could ever hope to. “Clearly, we simply must make a plan to cheer up our Professor!” 

“Oh Mercy, what a wonderful idea!” Annette pipes in, grabbing her hand in excitement.

Ingrid nods along as well. “The professor was always there for me whenever my mind was filled with troubles. It would only be logical to return the favor.” 

“We should show her our support.” 

Dimitri voices his approval, but it falls on deaf ears. By then the room has already disintegrated into a chaotic shouting match, Blue Lions style.

“We should bake her sweets, Mercy!”

“Perhaps cook for her? The professor is never one to turn down a communal meal.” 

“Bringing her freshly grown fruit will be good for her health.” 

“Nothing clears the mind like a good sparring session. I shall make sure to invite her.”

“A book!”

This continues for several minutes; the class suddenly finding the energy that had been lacking all throughout this morning’s lecture.

Annete starts writing down the suggestions, dividing the tasks. Dimitri can’t help the smile on his face. 

Operation cheer up the Professor was underway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3  
> Comments are greatly appreciated, be they critical or encouraging!


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